


To capture a demon

by Myrte46



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Supernatural
Genre: Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley, Hurt/Comfort, Interrogation, M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:08:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21769654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrte46/pseuds/Myrte46
Summary: Crowley goes to America to check out what the angels are up to, but instead, he finds two hunters and an angel, and they don't take too kindly on a demon rummaging around their room.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 395





	To capture a demon

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've written something for Good Omens, so do tell me if there are glaring inconsistencies with characterization. 
> 
> I took some liberties with the holy fire/demonic fire and holy water to be consistent across both canons.

There was a very good reason why Crowley didn’t go to America. Ever since it was ‘discovered’ it has been a place of unrest, fighting and an insane amount of monsters. Besides all of that, his angel was fond of London, so he stayed in London.

All of that didn’t amount to anything when he heard that there were angels in America, threatening again to destroy the world all over again.

Aziraphale didn’t want anything to do with angels, so Crowley went alone, after a big fight he’d rather not think about anytime soon.

Once he arrived, Crowley got himself a beaten down, temporary car and missed his Bentley when he went to shift gears and found out that American cars don’t do stick shift anymore.

Then the real work could start, it wasn’t hard to find nor track the scent of an angel, leading him to the middle of the country. He wasn’t going to bother with where exactly he was, he just wanted to find these angels and stop them from starting the apocalypse, go home to his own angel and furiously apologize to Aziraphale once he got back. He’d been a real dick before he left.

He parked his car on a nearly abandoned parking lot in front of a motel in the middle of a small town. He changed his clothes to fit more into what Americans wore nowadays and got out of the car. He walked inside and bought a room next to where the angel was housed. He walked up the stairs and settled in the dingy motel. Now he had to wait until something happened in the room next to his. He could detect if they left, and he could find out what they were up to once they did so.

He had nothing to do for a while, so he decided to call Aziraphale and apologize profoundly, except he didn’t have an international covering package, so there was no calling his boyfriend until he could leave and find a payphone, and there was no way he was leaving the room unguarded.

He didn’t have to wait terribly long until they left, but he did have time to count the ceiling tiles ten times over.

He got up once they, whoever they were, left and silently broke into the room next to his by miracling his key to fit that lock as well.

He rummaged through their stuff and found some things he’d rather not have. Salt, guns with bullets that were not meant for humans, and many more trinkets that Crowley was certain belonged to hunters, and professionals as well, judging by the sheer amount.

It reminded him of the Men of Letters back in London, and he cringed. He would not be surprised if they were part of that group. He occasionally had one of them walking into Aziraphale’s bookshop, asking questions about things that weren’t their business.

Thank goodness his angel was a master at telling them to fuck off with a polite smile.

After he’d dicked around the room for a while, he miracled everything back the way he found it and pulled open the door. He closed the door behind him and turned around. He was trapped in by two people who didn’t look all too happy with Crowley sneaking around their stuff. He hissed in annoyance and darted off to what he knew was a dead end. It had a window he’d jump out off.

He didn’t get very far. He ran into the angel he was pursuing, who wasn’t there a moment ago, and one of the two hunters knocked him out.

Crowley woke up, tied to a chair, with a major headache on the side of his head.

He looked up and around the room. He was in a barn, probably one of those out of town that he’d seen on his drive here. It was dark, but there was enough light filtering through the roof so Crowley could see everything. There was a demon trap on the floor, and he might not be a demon, in the sense that he was a twisted human soul tempted into demonism, but that would at least stop him from getting out of there with the wave of his hand. He was missing his sunglasses, too.

He tried to miracle his cuffs and headache away but found that he couldn’t.

He didn’t even notice the two people that had trapped him, too busy trying to get out of his predicament. Only when one started talking did he look up at them, knowing his eyes were fully resembling that of a snake and using that to try and unnerve them.

“Good to see you’re finally awake,” one of them said.

Crowley looked them over, and they looked similar. Maybe brothers, or cousins. At least some kind of blood relationship. It was also worth noticing the shorter one’s soul was bright, brighter than any soul Crowley had seen in a long while, even steeping through the demon’s refusal of seeing the souls of any living thing. The tall man had a soul the exact opposite, and Crowley couldn’t help but feel somewhat attracted to the taller man because of that.

“Can I have your names?” Crowley asked, interrupting whatever it was the bright-souled one said.

The two men shared a look, and the bright-souled one shook his head. “No,” the dark-souled one said.

The bright-souled one walked over to Crowley into the demon’s trap, dragging a knife down Crowley’s chest and cutting open his shirt, which Crowley noted was back to his usual attire.

“I liked that shirt,” he mumbled as he looked at his exposed chest.

“Too bad, sweetheart.” The bright-souled one grinned. “Now tell us what you were doing, breaking into our room and going through our stuff like that.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” Crowley said and stared at the human to try and intimidate him, knowing fully well his irises were big and it wasn’t as intimidating as when they were small slits.

“That’s not going to work,” the human said and put the knife in Crowley’s side, digging it down just far enough to make it bleed a dark green.

Crowley gasped in surprise, the knife, embedded with demonic sigils, cut through his skin easily, and it _hurt_. Normal weapons wouldn’t do anything against him, but this _hurt_ in a way Crowley hadn’t experienced before. He wouldn’t die from it, but if they did stab him in his heart with it, it’d kill the body he’d been occupying.

“Tell me what I want to know, demon,” the human growled and continued to drag the knife across Crowley’s stomach.

Crowley let out an angry hiss in response, showing off his forked tongue, and ended up with a knife deeper in his stomach and cutting away again. _Aziraphale, hear me, please. Come. I got trapped, can’t get out, and now I’m getting tortured. I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have gone, but please! Don’t abandon me now_ , he prayed _._

“I can stop if you answer one simple question,” the human said and pulled the knife away from the first cut, putting it down just above the first one.

There was no reply from Crowley, and the knife was back in his skin again, making Crowley cry out in pain and wither away from the human, but he was securely tied down to a chair and couldn’t get an edge in to escape or break the chains.

The knife only pushed harder in Crowley’s skin when he struggled, so he dragged in raspy breaths instead, high in his throat. He needed to stay calm and collected. _Aziraphale! Please!_ He mentally cried out again. He wanted his angel. This was a bad idea. Aziraphale was right, he shouldn’t have gone after angels. He wasn’t made for fighting.

Things got blurry after the third cut, above the second, and Crowley felt like passing out, stumping in the chair and dragging raspy breaths through his teeth.

The human left after many more cuts and forced his eyes to open to tiny slits, just enough to see the two hunters hurled together.

“I’ll take over, Dean, go talk to Cas,” the other human said to the first and tapped a needle with… something inside of it. It did nothing to assure Crowley.

The first human, Dean, nodded and walked outside of the door, where Crowley briefly saw a flash of white grace, but so, so different from his Aziraphale. That must be the angel he was here to track down, this Cas the second human was talking about.

There weren’t a lot of angels with the prefix Cas-, so there had to be someone Crowley should remember. But 6 thousand years was a long time since he was in heaven, and he really could only think of two. Cassiel and Castiel, although he’d never met either of them.

The second human stood in front of Crowley and looked down at the fallen angel. “What’s your name?”

Crowley glared at Sam, feeling so tired, yet he refused to answer.

The human shrugged and pushed the needle deep inside of Crowley’s neck.

Immediately, Crowley screamed out in pain. That was holy water, racing through his body in an instant, burning away at his insides.

There was a much stronger reaction than on a lesser demons since he was a fallen angel, and it burned through his neck to his head, and Crowley could feel the cells die inside of him, and forcefully he tried to stop it, to stop the pain, but nothing worked, and he sobbed from how much it hurt.

He passed out a moment later.

Crowley woke up with a loud gasp, jumping awake but stopped by the restrains. _Aziraphale!_ He cried out, full of pain, even though the holy water wasn’t busy killing him from the inside anymore.

He took a long moment to calm down, assess the damage, and look around the room.

There was a new figure in the room, and within the shitty light of the room, his grace almost blinded Crowley. That must be this ‘Cas’ person the yet unnamed human spoke about earlier.

“You’re awake,” Cas said and walked over to Crowley, staring down at him.

That didn’t put Crowley at ease at all.

“What are you doing here?” Cas asked, putting something in his voice that gave it more authority.

Crowley understood why lesser demons cowered under the charms of fallen angels. He still refused to reply, especially to the one he was here to find and get rid of, as a starting point of murdering out all the angels. They deserved it, to be honest. They had not kept their end of the deal and stayed out of Aziraphale’s and his business, so he got himself involved again in return.

Cas got up in Crowley’s face and snarled at him. “I said,” he said again, using that angelic charm. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard you just fine the first time,” Crowley replied. His voice was even more scratchy than usual. He coughed, his throat raw from screaming, and his miracling did absolutely nothing right now. He couldn’t even contact Aziraphale.

Cas tilted his head in confusion for a moment before his eyes went wide and he ran out of the barn. “Sam, Dean, I need to tell you something,” Cas ordered, and the two hunters followed him.

 _Aziraphale, this isn’t funny anymore. Please come get me. Please._ Crowley begged, but he couldn’t so quickly figure out another way to get out of there. He couldn’t do it himself since he was tied down and in the middle of a demon sigil. Thankfully the wounds in his side had stopped bleeding. His headache was very slowly getting worse again, almost unnoticeably, except to someone who wasn’t used to pain.

Cas walked back into the room, followed by the hunters. “Why didn’t you tell us you were a fallen angel? That would’ve sped this up so much more,” Dean growled and walked over to Crowley.

“You promised me you wouldn’t kill him! He might be useful!” Cas said and put himself between Dean and Crowley.

“He is a fallen angel. You told me he’s the reason why we have to live on earth instead of in paradise!” Dean told Cas and tried to push past him.

Cas simply held Dean back. “Yes, he was, but that means nothing anymore. He found a way to stay away from the dealings of heaven and hell a while back, and he shouldn’t even be here,” he told Dean and turned to Crowley. “You are the fallen angel Crawley.”

“I’m a fallen angel, yes, but it has been Crowley ever since after the garden,” Crowley corrected.

Dean and Sam shared a look. “What are you doing here, Fallen Angel,” Dean ordered.

Before Crowley could attempt to sass back at the human, there was a loud knock on the barn door.

Sam walked off to answer, although all three looked equally as confused.

If Crowley wasn’t having an impending headache caused by holy water, he would’ve found a way to describe the comical sight of three highly confused trained killers.

Once Sam was at the door, there was a knife at Crowley’s throat. Cas pulled Crowley’s head back from how deep he was pushing it in his throat, forcing Crowley to arch his back away from the angel.

“Is this necessary?” Crowley asked.

“Who did you call?” Cas growled. “I heard you send out multiple prayers, but I don’t know to who.”

“Fruitless hope, really. He won’t come or he would’ve been here the first time I called for him,” Crowley replied.

“What are you talking about?” Dean demanded, nervously twirling his knife in his hand while Sam walked over to the door.

“Crowley prayed to an angel, and now that angel is here,” Cas growled and got behind Crowley, holding the knife even tighter against his neck.

Crowley twisted in Cas’s grasp to try and get out, but he already knew it was fruitless.

The door flew against the wall with a loud bang once Sam unlocked it, and Aziraphale walked inside.

Crowley sighed in relief but was quickly reminded of the knife against his throat again. “Zira, please,” he whispered, his throat hoarse from the holy water.

“Let him go,” Aziraphale ordered as he walked to Crowley, entering the demon trap.

“No,” Dean said and dropped a match on the floor. It burned a path to Aziraphale, and Cas was quick to leave the circle forming around Crowley before he got trapped inside as well. It trapped Aziraphale inside. Demonic fire, deadly against angels and stopping them from leaving.

Dean and Sam left with Cas, most likely to discuss their next plan.

Aziraphale walked over to Crowley and pulled his demon in a hug.

“They put holy water inside of me. It burns, Zira,” Crowley mumbled as he hid his face in Aziraphale’s coat, weakly pulling at the restraints. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve listened to you. I shouldn’t have gone here. I’m sorry.” He mumbled between what would’ve resembled sobbing if he let himself.

Aziraphale waved his hand, relieving Crowley’s headache and removing his restraints. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I let you go through that. I couldn’t get away from some Men of Letter.”

“You’re trapped here now too,” Crowley said and wrapped his arms around Aziraphale, sinking to the ground with him so they could hold on to each other easier. “I’m sorry. I made you get stuck here. Now we both can’t leave. How are we going to get out, angel?”

“We’ll find something. We won’t be stuck here forever, my dearest,” Aziraphale promised and ran a hand through Crowley’s hair.

Crowley relaxed against his angel’s chest and nodded. Together they stayed curled up against each other, mumbling incoherently to each other.

Once the door opened, both Aziraphale and Crowley got up, facing the two hunters. Aziraphale protectively held Crowley behind him, and the supernatural beings could see how Aziraphale’s wings curled around Crowley to hide him from the ones that hurt him.

Crowley peeked over Aziraphale’s shoulder and watched the hunters, noticing Cas standing by the door. He didn’t dare to come close to the demonic fire, of course. He could go up in flames if he got too close.

“We have an offer for you. You two go back to England and leave us alone for the rest of time,” Sam said.

“Agreed, now let us out of here,” Aziraphale ordered, grabbing Crowley’s hand and holding it tight.

The hunters put out the two traps, and the demon and angel moved away from the traps and hunters quickly before Aziraphale miracled them out of there, back into the bookshop. Crowley grabbed Aziraphale and sighed deeply. “I hate America,” he said and snuggled against his boyfriend.

Aziraphale turned around and patted Crowley’s head while wrapping his other arm so he could pull Crowley close. “Now now dear, we’re safe at home, and we don’t have to return to the States ever again, just don’t be a fool like that ever again.”

“You’re not mad at me for going?” Crowley asked and pulled back so he could look at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale shook his head. “I could never,” he said and miracled a set of sunglasses on Crowley, knowing how much his demon didn’t like looking at the angel’s grace without sunglasses.

“Thank you,” Crowley said. “I don’t work well alone, especially not with the whole angel business going down over there. Let them die in flames themselves.”

“If it’s needed, we can get involved again,” Aziraphale suggested.

Crowley smiled. “Promise,” he swore and gently pulled Aziraphale into a slow and soft kiss.


End file.
